


Drabble Dump

by WhiteNoise



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteNoise/pseuds/WhiteNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wanted to explore the characters a bit and came up with short paragraphs. Yeah. That's it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble Dump

"Stop grinning like that." he muttered, the annoyance evident in his voice. Then he added: "Just because you don’t have any accent at all, that doesn’t automatically apply to everyone else."  
But it only made Noiz grin even more. At first, he hadn’t been able to understand, what Aoba had said. It had sounded like some weird, japanese thing, with a heavy german accent and it took the blonde a few seconds to realize, that it was the exact opposite. And then he had started to grin.  
It had been just a small movement of his lips, but Aoba had blushed like crazy, as soon, as he had spotted the amused glint in the german’s eyes. He was already frustrated enough with this stupid language and Noiz wasn’t helping at all.  
With a frustrated expression, the older man opened his mouth, to speak again, but he couldn’t even form the first word.   
Still grinning a bit, Noiz had pressed their lips together, holding the other close and then tugging him into a firm hug.   
"Ich dich auch."

++++

His back crashed against the wall with a dull ‘thud’ accompanied by a pained gasp. He squeezed his eyes shut ever so briefly, before he opened them again to stare at the other man. “Is that all?”  
No answer.  
Bright green eyes stared back at him instead. Noiz’ gaze had always been piercing and always a bit too vigilant, for Koujaku’s taste. It always seemed to look right into people’s heads without revealing anything about the information broker in return. And that caused a certain uneasiness to rise in Koujaku, but this here was worse.  
"What? Getting lost in the sight?"  
Again, no answer was given, but a tiny smile made it’s way onto Noiz’ lips. The very typical, minimalistic upwards twitch in the corners of his mouth. And the hairdresser grinned, already expecting a new hit or kick from the younger man. He could feel his left cheek pulsing with pain from Noiz’ last punch and a light, tickling sensation right beneath the corner of his mouth, told him, that he was bleeding.   
Noiz’ was good. Not only in Rhyme but also with his fists. And as much as Koujaku hated to admit it, that was one of the reasons, why he always kept reacting to Noiz’ subtle (or not-so-subtle) provocations. That was also, how they had ended up here. In the small alley behind his little salon: Because Noiz’ couldn’t talk to the older man without commenting on his age and it drove the hairdresser wild.  
"There’s nothing to get lost in, old man."  
The voice made him snap back to attention and Koujaku snarled at the smaller man. This again. Slowly but surely he was getting tired of being called that.  
"Watch your tongue." he replied as calm as possible and gripped the other’s wrists, to push him away. But Noiz’ didn’t budge.  
Instead the smile grew a bit.  
And said tongue slipped over a pale, lower lip, the silver sphere on it glistening in the dim alley.  
"That one?"

++++

Looking back, he still couldn’t really tell, how it had happened. How all of this had happened. What exactly had happened, even.  
All he knew for sure, was that Noiz had left. Less aloof than usual. And now he was running after the information broker.  
It took a good ten minutes, unti Clear finally found him in one of the many narrow alleys of the Old Resident District. He was slowly walking, still. seemingly without a destination.  
So clear quickened his steps until he was walking beside the blonde.   
Noiz ignored him.  
And Clear didn’t dare to say a word at first, but when the silence continued, he finally took a deep breath.  
"We-…" No. "I- …" No. This didn’t work. So he fell silent again, looking at his feet, as he walked. Usually the words came out on their own. But this was more difficult. So he finally chose to rely on the words, Aoba used so often.  
"Are you okay?" Yes. That was good. It showed, that he cared, right? And Clear did care. Really. Seeing Noiz leave like that and not being looked at was painful somehow. Weirdly painful. Different than the gash in his palm, from where he had caught a knife from falling. The cut still burned and pulsed and it still hurt.  
And Noiz suddenly stopped.  
Something was wrong. He could feel it. Hear it in the way, the other’s steps suddenly came to a halt.  
When the android looked up, there was something in Noiz eyes, that scared him. Something equally prosaic and emotional. Within the blink of an eye, Clear found himself pressed against the wall, Noiz glaring at him.  
He never averted his gaze. Not, when Clear stuttered questions, not when Clear asked him to let go and not, when he reached down to grip the other’s injured hand. Slowly, he brought it up, resting his own knuckles against the wall, while he held Clear’s hand in a firm grip.  
Slowly his thumb pressed into the cut, pushing it open and smearing a bit of blood-like fluid on the pale skin.   
"Noiz… please…"  
"Does that hurt?"  
"Yes!"  
"Wrong."  
"Wha-?"  
"It’s just an illusion. It’s a program running in your head."  
Then it stopped. The german took a step back, looking at the other. The emotion in his eyes had settled and eventually, he turned to walk away.  
And when he had already rounded the next corner, Clear could hear him murmur something, of which he was sure, was meant to be heard. Because Noiz wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t blind and Clear had thought that was enough to know about the blonde.  
Obviously it was not.  
"It’s artificial. Just like everything else about you."

++++

He’s pulling him back, detaching him from his skin and pulling him deep back into his body, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his cheek. “Switch with me.”  
"Switch."   
"Switch with me."  
But… the kiss on the cheek was just to start it…  
When Aoba squirms and tries to get away, the other one spins him around and grips his hair tightly. And it sends a sharp pain through his own hair but that doesn’t matter. Because pain is just the foreboding of destruction and that is… what… he… wants…  
So he forces Aoba closer and presses a calm, violent kiss onto his lips. It’s slow and heavy and searing hot, as his tongue makes it’s way past the stupid boy’s lips. The wet appendage works like a drill. Relentless and slow, boring it’s way into the boy’s consciousness.  
Switch. Switch with me. Switch with me. Switch… switch…. switch with me… switch…switch…switch…switch…s witch…swit ch…switch…swi tch…with m e…switch…sw itc h…switch…switch…sw it ch…switc h…s witch…sw-


End file.
